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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29634606">Under the Desk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindmeetspaper/pseuds/mindmeetspaper'>mindmeetspaper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Castiel Wants Dean Winchester To Feel Good, Castiel is Not Innocent (Supernatural), Deep Throating, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sam Winchester is (almost) Scarred For Life, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build, Under-Desk Blow Jobs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:33:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29634606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindmeetspaper/pseuds/mindmeetspaper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The subject of their conversation now seemed irrelevant, considering he had no idea how it led to his current situation, but Dean Winchester was not about to let minor questions like how or why get in the way of a blowjob.</p><p>By the time Cas had sensed Sam approaching, it was too late for them to convincingly scramble into a more innocuous position or lock the door. </p><p>So Dean improvised.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Under the Desk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So...<br/>Tried to finish the Destiel Wedding fic I accidentally started last week, wrote myself into a corner, had a breakdown (not really), decided to dust off one of my long forgotten, recently unearthed smut fics I half-finished, and completely re-wrote it to my satisfaction until about 2:30 am.</p><p>Bon Appetit!</p><p>Thanks, as always, to my beta reader and editor for her dedicated insight and editing that my sleep addled brain refused to acknowledge.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Sam let himself into Dean’s room, he found the older Winchester with his back to the door hunched over his laptop. The visible screen was not, thankfully, exhibiting one of the many porn websites his older brother frequented.</p><p>“Hey Dean, have you seen Cas?”</p><p>Dean paused mid-typing, shooting Sam a glance over his shoulder. He leaned back and slid an arm around the top of his chair to look at his younger brother. </p><p>“Sammy, we’ve discussed this. If the door’s closed, you gotta knock.” He complained. “Otherwise I can’t guarantee you’re gonna walk in on something PG-13.”</p><p>“Dude, gross.” Sam crossed his arms, trying and failing to repress memories of accidentally walking in on Dean in various forms of undress, more often than not accompanied with another, curvier nude body. “I was just digging through some more of the Men of Letters stores. I think I found some pretty heavyweight stuff. Cursed jewelry, illegible books. I think we might even have one of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” </p><p>Dean considers that last one for a moment. “Dead Sea Scrolls? Like, <em> the </em> Dead Sea Scrolls. Ancient Jewish treasure map? Awesome!”</p><p>“I- no, Dean, they’re the oldest religious manuscripts dating as far back as the third century BCE. Not some fictitious treasure map...plot device thing for a Nicholas Cage movie.”</p><p>“It was the Declaration of Independence, Sammy, and ‘National Treasure’ lives up to its title, okay?” Dean shoots Sam a disappointed look. “Besides, didn’t at least one of the translated scrolls actually identify dozens of hidden gold and silver caches around Israel? Is it really crazy to think there could be more?”</p><p>“Wait, seriously?” Sam stares at his brother, grinning in amusement. “How did you know that?”</p><p>“I read, Sammy. Just because I don’t have a fancy-ass subscription to the New York Times doesn’t mean I don’t pick stuff up.” He responds dryly.</p><p>Sam raises an eyebrow but decisively keeps his mouth shut. “Okay, well, mythical treasure map aside, they’re also considered priceless artifacts that could be worth a lot. Even more so if the Men of Letters were keeping them hidden away. Could be nice not to have to rely on Charlie’s magic credit card all the time.”</p><p>Dean jerks his head to the side and makes a small, appreciative sound.</p><p>“Anyway, I was hoping Cas might be able to appraise some of the stuff before we go around touching or tossing them. I’ve been looking all around the bunker for him,” Sam continued, leaning against the doorframe. “Library, kitchen, even knocked on his room. Jack hasn’t seen him since they got back either. Any idea where he might’ve gotten to?” At this, Dean shakes his head dismissively.</p><p>“Sorry man, no idea where the little guy wandered off to. I’m not exactly the angel’s keeper,” he grins, clearly proud of his little joke.</p><p>Sam’s mouth pressed together into a thin, unamused line. </p><p>“Did he at least stop by to let you know they were back from their milk run?”</p><p>Dean shrugs, gesturing towards the coat rack on the opposite wall.</p><p>“The guy came by a while ago. We chatted for a bit, he hung up his trench coat, left, and I went back to scoring us a case.”</p><p>“He...hung up his trench coat?” Sam repeated incredulously, eyeing the weathered, tan garment hanging next to Dean’s shirts and trucker jacket.</p><p>Dean frowns slightly, quickly glancing over his shoulder to double check. “Uh, yeah?”</p><p>“And you don’t think that’s odd? Dean, Cas almost never takes off his coat, even when we’re just hanging out together in the TV room.”</p><p>“Dean Cave.” The older brother corrects him with a grunt.</p><p>Sam rolls his eyes. “My point is, Cas never goes anywhere without it. Hell, I’d say he’s more attached to that thing than he is to you.” he rejoined, reflecting Dean’s bitch glare with his own. “It’s just...unusual for Cas, don't you think?”</p><p>“What are you, his mother now?” Dean shakes his head, glancing back to his laptop screen. “So the guy left the trench coat behind, big deal Sammy. Maybe he’s finally realized how weird it is to wear it around all the time? Or, uh, he’s...feeling comfortable to...let loose a little?” he falters, frowning slightly. He intently focuses on the empty space above Sam’s head, as though trying to come up with a more convincing argument but gives up with a one armed shrug. “It’s not like the dude’s walking around the bunker naked.” He finishes at last, returning his attention to Sam in the doorway.</p><p>Dean almost laughs out loud watching his little brother’s nose crinkle in disgust.</p><p>“God, I hope not.”</p><p>“Relax, Sammy,” Dean snickered, waving a hand at his little brother and turning fully towards his open laptop, leaning against the wooden desk top and indicating that the conversation had run its course. “If he pops in again, I’ll send him your way. And I’ll tell him to wear his scandalous trench coat so you won’t be traumatized.” </p><p>Dean returns his attention to his laptop screen, knowing he’s on the receiving end of yet another one of Sam’s bitchfaces. Sam scoffs and steps back into the hallway, closing the door to Dean’s room shut behind him. Dean hears the metallic click of the latch and keenly listens to his brother’s receding footsteps echoing towards the front of the bunker. </p><p>Silence falls heavily in Dean’s room until it’s finally broken with a sharp, delightfully hissing intake of breath.</p><p>“Easy on the teeth there, tiger.” He chides, finally acknowledging the dark haired man hiding in the shadows under his desk. He locks eyes with Cas, peering up at him from between his legs as the other man languidly pulls off his hardened cock with a soft pop.</p><p>“My apologies,” the angel apologizes passively, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a raspy tune as he speaks. “I was under the impression that you enjoyed a little...dangerous thrill, I believe it’s called.”</p><p>Dean wants to roll his eyes, because of course Cas can carry out a conversation as though he hadn’t almost been caught by the younger Winchester with Dean’s dick in his mouth. </p><p>“Yeah, well, there’s a difference between a thrill and accidentally getting your dick bitten off.” He struggles to sound casual, suppressing the instinctive urge to cross his legs.</p><p>Cas nods, understanding, and proceeds to shed his suit jacket. He does a fairly good job at it, Dean notes, considering his restricted space. Cas folds the dark material mechanically and, after a brief moment of consideration, places it under his knees as a makeshift cushion. The intention behind it causes Dean’s libido to reciprocate enthusiastically and appreciatively.</p><p>“That’s why I waited until Sam had left and put a considerable distance between us before attempting it. That, and I’d rather not trouble him with the unwelcomed sight of walking in on us.” Dean feels the smooth, warm palm of Cas’ hand deftly picking up where his mouth left off.</p><p>“ ‘preciate that.” He grunts out, doing his damndest to keep his breathing steady and collected under Cas’ ministrations.</p><p>Cas hums in acknowledgement, focused on the task at hand.</p><p>Dean hadn’t completely lied to his brother. Cas had indeed stopped by to check in while Dean was searching for a case, preferably a low-key salt-and-burn that wouldn’t take up too much of their time, and Cas had at some point divested himself from his iconic trench coat, primly hanging it up next to Dean’s clothes. The middle bit was a blur; just that the next thing he knew, his fly was undone, Scooby briefs were decisively rucked aside, and Cas was kneeling between his legs carefully, his plump lips sucking on the head of his cock. </p><p>The subject of their conversation now seemed irrelevant, considering he had no idea how it led to his current situation, but Dean Winchester was not about to let minor questions like how or why get in the way of a blowjob.</p><p>By the time Cas had sensed Sam approaching, it was too late for them to convincingly scramble into a more innocuous position or lock the door. </p><p>So Dean improvised. Cas, mercifully, hadn’t tried to make the situation more...challenging than it already had been. Hell, it was going swimmingly right up until Sam had brought up the damn trench coat. Naturally the jerk chose that moment to pick up where he’d left off.</p><p>“You seemed to enjoy it, though.” The angel states, pulling Dean out of his thoughts.</p><p>“Huh?” Dean questions brightly. A ghost of a smirk flicks across the angel’s lips.</p><p>“The...thrill of getting caught. Of being able to hide your position from Sam in plain sight. Being able to get away with it.” He presses languidly, voice low. His thumb brushes over the tip of Dean’s cock and smears built-up droplets of precum over the head, earning him a deeply appreciative sound from his partner. </p><p>“Oh? What gave you that idea?” The hunter asks cockily.</p><p>Cas raised an eyebrow at him, still holding the hunter’s very responsive dick in hand and sent Dean a pointed look.</p><p>“Just a hunch.” The angel cheekily replies while he resumes rubbing Dean’s dick with slow, calculated strokes. Dean grits back his smart-ass response and tosses his head back slightly, relishing the sensation as Cas’ firm, warm hands competently fondles his shaft, experimentally brushing his full lips along Dean’s length.</p><p><em> ‘Brat.’ </em> Dean thinks to himself, ignoring the fact that the angel was incomprehensibly more ancient than himself. As if hearing Dean’s thoughts, Cas halts his efforts to casually study Dean’s expression, much to the hunter’s displeasure. He opens his mouth to complain only to feel it fall open in surprise, shuddering as he feels the lush, unprompted press of Cas’ tongue along the hot and sensitive underside of his erect cock, forcing Dean to grip the edge of the desk hard.</p><p>“Fuck,” he grits out, easing open his clenched fist as he uses the desktop to keep himself propped up. He was so freakin’ lucky that Cas hadn’t pulled a stunt like that while Sam was in the room.</p><p>Cas licks another pleasing, wet stripe along the underside of his cock, a strong hand holding down Dean’s hips to keep him from bucking. Dean swears he can see the little shit grinning to himself, all self-satisfied as he reaches the tip, kissing it with a subtle suck. The guy kept treating it like some sort of personal victory whenever Dean responded positively to his efforts.</p><p>This development in their relationship was still new to both of them; Dean hadn’t ever felt unashamed of being physical with another man beyond trading handjobs or a blowjob when the occasion called for it. And Cas...well, they had time to get him up to speed. Besides, what Cas lacked in experience, he more than made up for in his proficiency in human anatomy. </p><p>It’s not long before Cas’ mouth is on him again, sucking demurely on Dean’s red, drooling head before sinking down, his free hand pumping the remaining length. Dean can vividly feel the head of his cock rubbing heavy across Cas’ tongue as he sinks further towards his goal with every other bob of his head.  </p><p>Threading his fingers into Cas’ dark hair, Dean softens Cas’ uneven bobbing to a casual pace. Despite his reputation and penchant for one night stands, Dean Winchester liked it slow. He enjoyed the experience and savoured the feeling of every drawn out wave of pleasure. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. </p><p>Cas hums responsively, grateful for the touch and guidance. The humming goes straight to his gut and Dean feels his head loll further back as he groans deeply, his breathing growing heavy as Cas’ tantalizing warm mouth sinks lower and lower, swallowing Dean down to the hilt. Only then does he reflexively tighten his grip on the angel’s hair.</p><p>He tries not to hold Cas down for too long, still in awe of Cas’ dismissive gag reflex. Something of which they discovered by happy accident in an initial post-hunt escapade. Although Cas had reassured him it wasn’t painful, he did say it was “rather indelicate to contract the muscles of the throat for an extended period of time, Dean”.  </p><p>So despite the primal urge to chase his own pleasure, Dean releases his hold after a moment, relishing the smooth suction as Cas pulls off only to sink right back down into that blessed heat once again.</p><p>Cas maintains a comfortable rhythm, humming agreeably with Dean’s groans of pleasure. Every so often the angel pulls off with a sultry pop to catch his breath, stroking Dean between heated, hurried breaths, eyes half lidded as he watches his partner pant and moan above him, coming apart under his touch. </p><p>Dean knows he won’t last much longer when Cas' other hand starts caressing the inside of his thigh, making its way past his underwear and around his balls, fondling them carefully. He swears loudly, momentarily forgetting to restrain his voice. The door was still unlocked, and either the kid or Sam could come rushing in if they thought he was in trouble.</p><p>And fuck, the thought of getting caught should not be as thrilling as his dick seems to think it is.</p><p>Dean had been hitching mumbled praises to Cas’ name in between stifled moans of pleasure, but now he began repeating it imploringly, babbling as Dean felt himself barreling towards the end. Cas, the perceptive sonofabitch, began increasing his pace and bobbing shallowly around the base of Dean’s cock, the muscles of his throat engulfing Dean in a tight heat. </p><p>Surrounded by Cas’ heavenly heat, Dean comes with a swallowed groan, thick streaks of his seed spilling down Cas’ throat. Cas swallows with little difficulty, both hands firmly holding down Dean’s hips he finishes with an appeased shudder. He kneads his thumbs soothingly over Dean’s hip bones, pulling off slowly and deliberately to collect every last drop. </p><p>He may only be able to taste the molecules rather than the salty musk of Dean’s release, but it was still Dean’s essence. A quintessential part of the human he loved. Cas wouldn’t see any of it go to waste.</p><p>In the post-orgasm haze, Dean can feel his tightly-coiled muscles finally relax. He rolls his head over his shoulders with a deeply sated sigh. Dean peers down at his partner to find those familiar blue, heavy lidded eyes fondly watching him in return. This angel who loved him unselfishly, still kneeling devotedly in the visibly cramped space under his desk.</p><p>Dean didn’t know how the hell he deserved Cas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.</p><p>Cas stops lapping up at his now softening cock, his hands resting on Dean’s knees to keep himself upright. Cas’ breathing was, honestly, far too controlled for the level of exertion he just went through. Dean ran his fingers through dark tufts now messed to high hell where Dean had raked his fingers previously, trying to smooth them down, distantly aware of the angel leaning into his touch.</p><p>Sammy had a point. With his trench coat, Cas was powerful but approachable. Without it, Cas looked...different. More polished and assertive. Even with his immaculate appearance utterly and thoroughly wrecked: white dress shirt rumpled, disheveled hair, blue tie askew, swollen lips and a glowing pink flush spread all across his cheeks and neck…all of it gave him that sexy I've-just-been-fucked-six-ways-from-Sunday look. </p><p>Which reminded him...</p><p>“So...sucking me off, even while Sam was within hearing distance,” Dean pipes up lamely, catching Cas’ attention, “all that teasing was just a way to get back at me for calling your trench coat excessive?”</p><p>Cas purposely remains silent, answering Dean’s question in more ways than one. <em> ‘Alrighty then. </em>’ </p><p>Something to file away for next time.</p><p>“In my defence, you do have an unhealthy attachment to it.”</p><p>Cas looks up at Dean with narrowed eyes. The angel tilts his head as he peers up at Dean, pressing his mouth into a familiar firm line. Annoyed, but still willing to put up with Dean’s crap.</p><p>“Just saying, Cas.” He add, thoroughly amused.</p><p>“I was surprised how well you handled the situation, given the circumstances,” Cas admits huskily, changing the topic while massaging the sore muscles in his jaw. “To my understanding, it takes a fair amount of discipline to maintain composure when receiving a blowjob.”</p><p>Dean chuckles slowly, now glad that he made Cas watch Police Academy and that the guy had, in fact, been paying attention to the movie after all.</p><p>“Yeah, well this ain’t my first rodeo, Cas, sorry to say. I’ve had to wiggle my way out of far more compromising situations than my little brother walking in while I’m getting blown.” </p><p>Cas nods, but Dean notices how his lips purse together and his brow furrows. Dean smirks proudly at the sight of the silently pouting angel still nestled between his legs, sliding his hand down from his hair to cup the underside of his stubbled jaw. He brushes the pad of his thumb fondly over the ridge of Cas’ defined cheekbone. “Does that make you jealous?”</p><p>“Should I be?” He challenges, eyebrow quirked, sliding firm hands along Dean’s muscular thighs, thumbs teasingly brushing over the inner seam of his jeans.</p><p>And fuck, if Dean hadn’t just blown his load he’d be at half mast already from Cas’ commanding tone. </p><p>The hunter intuitively licks his bottom lip. “If it leads to more of this, you can feel any damn way you want.” Dean replies as Cas sidles up into his lap, snaking his hand behind Cas’ neck and trading deep, open kisses with the angle’s still hot and pliant mouth.</p><p>“But first things first.” He insists as they break away, palming his free hand over Cas’ obvious and neglected arousal, earning him a delightful throaty moan from the angel. “How about we take care of you, okay sunshine?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Spoiler alert, Sam figured it out and couldn’t look at Cas properly while he helped Sam assess the validity of the Dead Sea Scroll. Even if Sam didn’t see anything, he knew. And that is, arguably, worse.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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